


Walk Before You Run

by joukaimokie



Series: Hero's Journey [2]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Gen, Military
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-13 22:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joukaimokie/pseuds/joukaimokie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boot camp begins and not everything is as smooth as Denzel had hoped, from disrespect to a fellow cadet that already hates him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walk Before You Run

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII does not belong to me and I am making no money off of this.

Sweat dripped from his face as he lowered himself to the ground. He could hear the screaming of the drill sergeant as he moved between each of the trainees. Muscles quivered and he held back a groan as he felt the effort it took to move. 

It started getting easier after the first week however every day they worked him harder. The other men and women seemed to be able to keep up, but every night the most he could do is collapse into the bed. 

“IS THAT THE BEST YOU CAN DO?”

Denzel exhaled slowly and pushed himself up as a boot was pressed against his back and forced him to the ground. This was the army; it was what he had wanted more than anything else. This was what it would take to get strong and he couldn’t bend or break. 

Arms trembled as Denzel pushed himself up once again and fought against the extra weight. He couldn’t give up, no matter how hard it became he knew he had to complete his training. 

Some days it took everything not to just curl up and wish he could die, all the work, the insults, but they had hardened him over just the few weeks. His arms shook and it took all his strength not to collapse upon the ground. 

The armor around his heart had become chiseled and hard as stone, after a time it didn’t matter what he was called, the things the man yelled from above him. If this was what it took to be strong he would do it. He didn’t care. No matter what he had to become strong. 

When he was finally allowed up Denzel took in a deep breath as he rose to his feet. The movement felt automatic, his mind focused elsewhere as they were finally dismissed for the night. Denzel barely lifted his head as he stumbled towards the showers and stripped his sweat drenched training clothes off. 

They were dumped to the bench as he turned on the water and the spray hit sore muscles and began to wash the sweat and dirt from his skin. Half the time he wasn’t even quite sure of his own mind. It felt like he was no longer allowed to think for himself, but he knew that was just the way the army was. Hands were placed against the wall as Denzel drew in a deep breath and then felt a hand slam against his back. 

“Go home already!” 

No, he would not become a washout. He knew he was having trouble keeping up but they would never understand why he had to do this. A part of him ached to go back, to return to Edge and Tifa’s bar where she would be there to help him through, same as Cloud. 

Even after two weeks there had been no contact. He had expected something, anything... But no, it seemed like they were just going to allow him to do just as he wanted. 

The cold water hit Denzel’s back like bullets and the offered soap was scraped across his body. Nothing about this place was comfortable, in fact he was pretty sure it was hell, but it was his new home for now. 

Was this really what he had dreamt of for so long? What it really took to become strong? Denzel wasn’t sure but he had to keep trying. 

The water splashed across his skin as he drew in a shaky breath. Sleep would be fitful, probably closer to a comatose state that would grab him like it always did. Exhaustion always seemed to get the better of him. A shiver traveled through his body and it took everything not to wrap his arms around his body. 

He missed home, but most of all he missed Cloud. Even if he was gone a lot he still loved him, looked up to him, and looked forward to every story he had to tell. He remembered the day Cloud had taken him out to the area where his journey had started. After that Cloud had started to teach him to defend himself and Tifa had taught him things as well. 

But nothing could have prepared him for this abuse. As the water washed the soap from his body he paused for a minute and then turned it off. Grabbing his clothes he pulled them on before grabbing his sweat drenched cadet uniform. 

Denzel’s sore body was dragged to barracks and made it to his room before his body collapsed into the bed. He shut his eyes, exhausted, and was certain he was asleep before his body even hit the mattress.

 

Jolted awake before the sun was even up Denzel was certain that he hadn’t really slept, just kind of fell comatose. There was a series of collective groans as the others began to drag out of their beds. Feet hit the ground, the room still dark, the sun yet to rise. 

Funny how used to it he had become only after a few weeks. His eyes shut for a moment until he dragged himself out of the bed. There was only a little bit of time to make his bed, shower, and be in uniform and ready for the morning check. 

Denzel stumbled out of bed and covered a yawn before he collected a clean uniform and hurried towards the showers. He still wasn’t used to this but he was at least holding up. 

It was the usual morning ritual, had reached a point of monotony with each day he did it. It was their job to turn them into soldiers, afraid of nothing. Denzel had not been prepared for this, not when he signed up, and certainly not when he received that letter. 

He hadn’t known how hard he would have to work, how much harder than the others it would be to prove himself. He was young, and he had background, and even though no one else treated him as if he was special he knew that the others saw him as that. The competition was intense, each needing to prove they were better than the others, that they were special. 

And without battle-worn camaraderie that meant they had targets, there were victims. And he was the one that was stepped on. But he learned the lessons well, he learned who never to be alone with. 

As the water beat on his bare back he tried to remember what day it was. That was right, it was Tuesday, and that meant after running drills it would be combat training, starting with swordsmanship with quarterstaves. He didn’t mind it, in fact he preferred it over a lot of things. He was good at the fighting, but it also gave the other guys a chance to gang up on him. 

They had made it all too obvious that he was the outcast, the one they didn’t want. 

Focusing again Denzel hurried through the shower and drying of his body before the uniform was pulled on and returned to the barracks to make his bed and replace his items for the bed check. 

The others were slowly finishing up as well, audible whispered groans escaped from each of them only until the familiar sound of boots echoed just out the hall. In an instant ever single young man stood at attention and waited nervously for any sign that something was off. 

Any error, anything that was less than identical and perfect would be reprimanded. It had become less often but it still happened. The man walked past and scrutinized each of them closely, searching for anything he didn’t like. Finally he turned and left and each of them were allowed to breathe again.

Denzel hurried from the room, determined to reach the mess hall before things got ugly again. His body was stiff after the night and a sigh escaped as boots echoed against the ground. Each step was murder to his body, it consumed him, and he took a breath as he stepped in. Every thought of self was to be beat out of them and all he could do was accept this.

He had to let them break him so he could be rebuilt. 

 

“Cloud?” 

The voice echoed outside but he didn’t even lift his head. Rather his attention focused on the ring on his desk and the letter. Just as easily as he had come into his life he was gone. Still he could only remember the little boy on the ground. He had been so light, so sick. 

The boy was filthy and starving and could easily rest in his arms. He hadn’t wanted to accept any responsibility, he wasn’t fit for it, but Denzel was always there, always idolizing him. He was a poor role model for him. 

But now he was gone. 

“Cloud... you should eat something. Staring at that letter won’t make him come back any sooner.” 

He knew Tifa only wanted to help him but she couldn’t. No one could help. Denzel had made his way under his guard, made him want to care for him, and just like that he was gone. 

There were no words, no hint, just the letter discovered on the bed the next morning along with the ring. His bed had been empty and the only question had been ‘why’. Had he been too absent? Had he not paid enough attention? Did he not train him enough? 

Maybe he should have taken Denzel with him, taught him the craft of battle instead of just the lessons between his deliveries. But still that didn’t change the here and now. He had come back and the boy was gone, for a few weeks now. Just like so many others he had failed Denzel. Even as he slowly began to forgive himself for all the regrets, all the people he had failed, then this had come. 

Cloud couldn’t help but tell himself that if only he hadn’t failed Denzel he would not have left. He would not have run off to what was probably hell. He would still be there, the teenager smiling as he listened and hung onto Cloud’s every word. 

But that wasn’t the way it was anymore, no, now Denzel was gone as easily as he had come. Aerith had brought him; that was the only thought when he had seen the boy unconscious on the ground. It had been difficult at first, but over time had come the realization that he needed Denzel just as badly as Denzel needed him. 

It was after one particularly long night in the hospital. The doctors had been running tests and Denzel lay on the bed, the white sheet filthy from the sign of Geostigma that drained from his forehead. He shuddered and cried during the worst of the pain and when finally the boy had opened his eyes the first thing he had done was reach out for him. Cloud had reluctantly taken him into his arms and Denzel clung to him and sobbed his fears. 

After that he couldn’t let the doctors touch him any longer. All the visits were torture. He was determined to do the impossible and find a cure, a miracle for Denzel. And in the end that same miracle had saved him. 

But now he was gone, just like that. 

Fingers closed around the ring that hung on the length of leather. Did that mean that Denzel had moved on? Now that he had grown enough he had become the wanderer with no real home? 

“Cloud... it’s not your fault.” 

He couldn’t say anything. She wouldn’t understand, not when he knew as he always did that it was his doing. He had failed him. He had thought he had forgiven himself for Aerith’s death, maybe he had, but now Denzel was gone. 

Footsteps echoed and Cloud knew Tifa had left the office and he just stared at the pictures on the desk. Some were old, others were new, but they all had a shy brunet boy, the oldest one had been taken when neither was looking. Cloud picked it up as his thumb brushed across the glass frame. The teen’s blue eyes seemed to blaze with life as he trained, the long staff across his body, the end crossed with the flat edge of the main blade. 

Cloud quickly slammed it down against the desk, the glass against the wood. He was gone. That was all there was to it. 

 

Hand to hand was a relief, the straight bokken in hand, though there weren’t really many rules as far as battle went. It had taken some time to adjust to the bokken compared to his staff and while many of the others fought monsters sometimes Denzel knew he had the advantage. 

He had trained under Cloud. 

“Strife! Ral!” 

Shoulders were pulled back as Denzel stepped forward and turned towards his opponent. The bokken was twisted around into an attack position, the young man opposite him. Green eyes watched him closely as the order was called. Denzel felt the impact of the other through his arms as the short staves crossed. 

Denzel twisted his for the next thrust that was parried away, each knock between them felt. The attacks became brutal; each one grew in power until Denzel hit his knees. He lifted a hand; honor stated that the winner helped the loser up. 

His own staff moved up as the other was hooked around his throat, a rough knee to his back and the suddenly familiar jeer that echoed in his ears. 

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” 

“That’s enough! Both of you!” Denzel felt the staff loosen but everything in him burned for payback. It was one thing hitting him in the stalls where no one could catch, but he had done it in front of everyone. 

Whoever it was obviously had a problem with him. As the staff was lifted Denzel took a step forward and turned. It was rough on his hand, the feel of his fist hitting flesh and bone. Denzel’s eyes flashed towards him and the other took no time. He was the better street fighter, and fists became weapons as Denzel felt the next punch against his body. A growl escaped and Denzel moved and leapt towards the other. 

It was instantly a scuffle but one he was losing as Denzel felt the sudden pain of his head being smashed against the ground. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that? It took me a while to figure it out it was you, but I should’ve known. You were always the same, more privileged than the rest of us.” 

Denzel twisted and the other lost his grip and a snarl escaped as Denzel jumped at his middle. The other fell over and Denzel was over him in an instant and his fist shot out. Pain seared through his fingers and arm as his fist hit the ground, the other having jerked away to avoid the collision. Bodies moved and Denzel felt a hard knee to his upper abdomen. 

A breath escaped and for a moment Denzel tried to inhale and failed as strong hands yanked him off. “ENOUGH! Drop and give me thirty! NOW!” 

Denzel struggled for a breath and finally it cleared as he was forced down to his knees. Arms dropped and he pushed himself up, his lungs burning for a moment. It became easier to breath soon enough as Denzel moved his body and his eyes flickered towards the other recruit. 

He was the one that had started it. He had attacked him first, had gone after him. Whatever the reason was he didn’t know. He didn’t understand it. What had he done to make anyone hate him? 

None of it made sense. 

Denzel continued the movements of his body and tried to ignore the superior look from the other one. He turned his head away and listened to the continued orders for the exercise. He didn’t face the other recruit again but he could help but shoot the glowers towards the other when the drill instructor’s back was turned. He could forget about it for the moment however with the focus on his training. 

“Strife, you will report to the commissioner.” 

Slowly Denzel gave a salute and moved from the training field. All he could do was listen and move. He could pretend he wasn’t frustrated, that the anger and confusion didn’t overwhelm him. But it did. Hands clenched as he hurried towards the lift and hit the button hard. His stomach seemed to clench as the button to Reeve’s office was hit and he sank back against the cool steel of the wall. No matter how hard he had made his choice. He needed to be in the WRO or he would be weak forever. He needed to be the one the next time, the one to make sure his family never paid the ultimate price. 

Denzel clenched his eyes shut as the anger seemed to well inside. All those guys that looked down on him, they didn’t understand anything. They didn’t see why he had to do this, especially not that ass that attacked him. Privileged? Maybe so if watching to people that protected him die was a privilege. 

Hands curled into fists and the metal door gave a slight clang as his fist collided with it. His hand ached from the contact with the unyielding metal but it didn’t matter as he clenched his eyes tightly shut and leaned against that hand. His forehead pressed against the door and he took a few shaky breaths. He could be the kid, the outsider, he could be denied like Reeve had done to him and others like Johnny could try to stop him but he would never stop. He couldn’t stop. Denzel took a few breaths and pulled himself up as the lift dinged and he entered the outer office before he was motioned into it. 

It was instinct that brought the hand up and tensed him into the proper position. “Sir!” 

Reeve glanced up towards the teenager and quickly gave the at ease command before he sighed and shook his head. “Denzel, it was reported that you started a fight today and ignored orders from a superior officer.” 

“I didn’t start it sir,” he’d take whatever punishment he had to but he would not be blamed for what the other did. Blue eyes locked on Reeve who motioned to the teen to sit down across from him. 

“I do not want to regret my decision to accept you, but perhaps you are just too young.” 

The words hit like a sledgehammer and Denzel felt his throat seem to tighten. He knew he had to be obedient, professional, but at the moment he wasn’t the soldier he trained as. He quickly stood up and his hands hit the desk. “You can’t! I’m trying and I can try harder! I’m not the weakest one there and I can show them! I’ll earn their respect!” 

The blue eyes blazed and Reeve smiled to himself. It was that stubbornness that he had come to expect but for that moment, despite the lack of any relation, the eyes reminded him of Cloud. It would almost be expected though and the times he watched the teen he would see mannerisms that he could only have picked up from the blond.

If he turned him away he knew the letters would start coming again. The boy wouldn’t give up, and that was exactly what he had told Tifa when the enraged woman had appeared in his office waving a letter in his face. She had known just as he did that the teen boy would never give up, not until he got what he wanted. Reeve sighed as he closed the file and looked up. “Direct disobedience can be dangerous in the long run. The will want to make an example of you.” 

“If I leave now sir I’m just a coward. I’ll take whatever punishment they have for me.” 

He nodded and motioned towards the door. “Report to the training yard.” 

Denzel gave a sharp salute and hurried towards the lift. His mind was filled with what exactly they could do to him and none of the ideas were pleasant. He could be pushed to his limits and he wouldn’t break. The trick was going to be surviving his training. Boots hit the metal loudly and the clang seemed to echo through the quiet hall. He wasn’t the one who had started it but he had disobeyed. 

The lift moved slowly and silently he listened to the sound of the motors. He would do whatever it took to keep going as long as he was allowed to and if he was sent home he couldn’t possibly give up. He never would. Hands curled into fists and shook slightly in rage at the thought of the other trainee. He had started the fight but he was the one being punished. Denzel took a few shallow breaths and tilted his head back. No matter how long it took he had to keep doing this. 

The lift jerked to a stop and the door quickly slid open with a loud noise before he hurried out. Just take his punishment like the man he wanted to be, that was all he needed to do. His chest clenched as he hurried towards the outside training yard. He was the example of how they responded to disobedience. If they were willing to punish the young precious family member of the heroes then they would punish anyone. Nails dug into his palms and Denzel lifted his head up. 

He couldn’t ever let them see him unsure. He couldn’t let them break him. 

Denzel took a few steps forward and one hand was brought up automatically in a strict salute. Perfect obedience, that was had been drilled into his head from the day he came here. He could feel the eyes on him, perhaps waiting to see if they’d actually do it or pitying him for being the example. Whatever it was it didn’t matter. 

“Strip your top.” 

He nodded and the training top was stripped off and dumped it onto the ground. He was a far cry from what he used to be. When his family saw him again would they even recognize him? It was times like this that he questioned his decisions, times when he would give anything to once again be in the bar listening to Cloud’s stories. But this was something he had to do. 

“Into position.” 

Denzel nodded as he moved forward and lifted his hands. Fingers curled around the leather as it was tightened around his wrists and without warning the first hit came. It had hurt harder than he thought it would and the flexible wood sent a shot of pain over his spine. It blossomed across his skin as the second strike landed hard over skin. Hands tightened around the leather as his body took the strikes. He knew exactly why they had to do this. Disobedience was a crime and if they didn’t balk at punishing him they would all realize how serious it was. 

Each strike was laid hard against his back until finally it paused and he was released. Denzel rested his hands on his knees and panted lightly. The pain shot over his back as the skin stretched with his movements. Everyone around him was silent as he lifted his head. He could take any punishment they threw at him, any test, and he wouldn’t leave. He was here for good. He took in a shallow breath and saluted sharply before he grabbed his shirt from the ground. 

 

The day had been too long and his back still ached. Denzel stood in silence under the cold spray as it roughly abused the bruised back. It beat against him and he took a sharp breath. It could have happened to anyone, they just needed someone to make an example of. Luck just had it that it would be him. 

The cold water washed over skin and he gingerly scrubbed at it to not irritate it more. It was still sensitive to the touch and the pounding water bothered the welts that had formed on his skin. He groaned as he straightened up and let the water wash the last of the soap off. It seemed every touch sent more pain shooting through his skin. He’d probably be feeling it for a while unless he was able to get access to a cure or potion. He leaned heavily on his arm and took a shallow breath. He just had to keep at it, keep fighting until he was strong enough to protect those around him. He shut his eyes and tilted his head back. 

He could never forget why he did this, why he had to. This was to become strong enough to protect his family just as they protected him. Eyes clenched shut as the next showerhead turned on. The sign that soon enough the showers would be full of the other men. Fingers wiped across his face as Denzel turned off the water, dried, and quickly dressed. Salutes were given where need as he brushed past them and stopped only as a pair of pale green eyes locked on him. 

Denzel held them for a moment until the other recruit jerked away from him with a quick movement. A frown creased Denzel’s features as he shook his head and hurried up to the mess hall. Dinner and then further training before liberty. Every part of his day was planned out to the second. With food gathered he collapsed into a seat and let his head drop slightly forward. As long as he fought he didn’t have to think. Denzel jumped slightly as a hand fell on his shoulder and a figure sat down beside him. 

“Relax, I’m not going to be the one shooting at you.” 

Slowly he nodded as his fork scraped at the plate. It was survivable, but only after a few weeks he was starting to miss Tifa’s cooking. Whatever he got here though would probably be delicious compared to what he got once the missions began. Denzel smothered a yawn and finished the meal as the door opened. 

“Strife, Ral, you have mess duty,” the drill instructor announced as he pointed at the two of them. Denzel couldn’t hold back the glare in the green eyed teen’s direction. Liberty would be spent mopping with him of all people. Mentally he groaned as his head dropped back slightly. It was going to be one hellishly long day. He buried his face in his hands as a slight groan escaped. 

His head dropped back for a moment and stared upwards towards the ceiling for a moment. No matter who got in the way he couldn’t ever stop. Not now, not ever. 

 

The cell phone lay before him open to a number and the ring rested next to it. Even though he hadn’t eaten Tifa had eventually given up with a last sad smile and a brief hug. It was all she could do but it didn’t take away the pain. Even now it was silent despite the bustle of the bar downstairs. The mattress of the narrow bed shifted under his weight as he reached down and opened the drawer of the table next to it. 

Cloud was no closer to really knowing the reason why Denzel had left. The drawer was mostly empty except for a few items, but none of them gave any hint as to why Denzel could have possibly left. 

He could go after him, he could even call Reeve, and though the phone lay open at Reeve’s number he couldn’t make the call. He couldn’t hit that single button and ask him how Denzel was doing. And just like that he was gone and Cloud never could have foreseen it. He hadn’t wanted to get attached but when he held that small shaking hand he had known it would be difficult. 

And when he gave him the ring he had known he had given up, especially as he came in late at night to be told that Denzel was asleep. He had spent hours stroking the sweat drenched hair and desperately searched for something to save him. Everything he had done was rewarded when finally after so long the boy looked up and smiled at him. 

Finally Cloud picked up the phone and hit the send button before he listened to the dialtone. It seemed unbearably loud, especially in the silence of the room, and matched the pounding of his heart until finally it clicked. 

“Cloud? I didn’t expect you to ever call.” 

Cloud’s mouth went dry for a moment as opened up his mouth and then finally spoke. “Reeve, there is something I need to ask.”


End file.
